Undyne's Word
by mangaluva
Summary: Of course you trust Alphys and Undyne with your child. You just need to make a couple of things perfectly clear first. (Second person present POV, selectively mute Frisk, post-Pacifist, gaylies. I shouldn't be surprised that the last piece of fic I get finished this year is Undertale, but I didn't expect it to be inspired by my Grandma...)


You couldn't be happier to adopt Frisk, of course. Establishing lives for yourselves on the surface is a little tricky at first, but you can watch your child play in the sunlight every day, healthy and happy and _alive,_ and that's more than enough for you.

It's very exciting when a school calls and offers you an interview for a teaching job, and you're looking forward to it, but there's the question of what to do with Frisk. You can't very well bring them with you to a job interview, and while normally you'd ask Sans and Papyrus to babysit for you, the two of them are on a roadtrip with Doctor Gaster. And you _certainly_ won't be asking your _ex_ to look after a helpless child.

The most logical next choice is Doctor Alphys, who has all that anime that Frisk likes to watch, and of course she and Captain Undyne are living together now so Frisk couldn't be safer, but there are a few issues to be taken care of there.

"Please, Captain, make Frisk something _other_ than ramen and candy to eat for lunch," you ask, standing on their doorstep while Frisk runs in and plops themself on the couch.

"Sure!" Undyne says, grinning. "I'm trying out salad recipes just now, 'cause they almost never set the kitchen on fire. Healthy stuff, too!"

That's sufficient, you decide-Undyne is always very good about keeping Frisk out of the blast radius of her culinary experiments. "And do be careful about what anime you watch with them," you continue. "I'd rather not be asked how robots have babies again."

Alphys glances nervously towards where Frisk is watching something with girls in vividly coloured outfits with matching hair. "I've, uh, put away all the stuff that i-isn't, um, kid-friendly," she promises, fidgeting nervously with her own claws until Undyne grabs and squeezes her hand to make her stop, at which point the former Royal Scientist goes bright red and still as a statue.

You smile fondly. Young love is so sweet. "One last thing, Captain," you add. "I am sure, of course, that you will be entirely responsible, but I have to be sure to ask that you… are aware of your language around Frisk. They are awfully young, after all, and some of your usual speech is, perhaps… inappropriate…"

"You mean 'cause I swear like a sailor?" Undyne laughs, entirely unoffended. "Don't worry, Ma'am, I won't be sending the kid home with any new words!"

"S-she's, umm, really good a-at catching h-herself around kids," Alphys mumbles in support. Undyne grins wider.

"Alright, you have my phone number, so…" you straighten your ears. "Frisk! I'll be back to pick you up in four hours!"

Frisk waves, signing _Goodbye!_ and _good luck!_ at you, eyes never leaving their anime.

"G-g-g-good luck!" Alphys adds.

"Knock 'em DEAD with what an AWESOME teacher you're gonna be!" Undyne adds. "SMASH YOUR EDUCATIONAL PROWESS INTO THEIR FACES WITH ALL OF YOUR MIGHT!"

"Thank you," you say, smiling at them and turning to walk down to the primary school which is offering you a position.

{}

The interview goes by faster than expected, and you rather suspect that the headmaster is only hiring you and offering places in the next semester to Frisk and the monster children because he wants to be famous for running the first school to accept monsters-there was a news crew there for your interview, for goodness' sake, it wasn't subtle-but you have your dream job and you will be able to watch over your child as they receive a good education, so you decide it's worth it. Frisk seems to have had a good time with Alphys and Undyne, who promised that they did indeed have a salad and a sandwich for lunch (you aren't sure _how_ Undyne embedded a lettuce leaf in the ceiling and you decide not to ask), and while they are a little hesitant at going to a school with humans, they are heartened by your promise that you will be there too. They set with determination to the homework which you have made them for today.

You start putting together dinner while they work away diligently, getting up only to go sharpen their pencil over the kitchen bin. When they go back to the table, however, they stub their toe on a table leg and, at the top of their lungs, yell, "OH, UNDYNE'S WORD!"

They slap their hands over their mouth, and for a long moment you can only stare at one another in surprise. It's so rare for your child to be verbal, usually preferring signing, but it just seems to have burst out of them, a-well, neither "Undyne's" nor "Word" is itself a swear word, but...

"Are… are you alright, my child?" you ask, kneeling down in front of them and placing a paw over their foot, letting a little healing magic flow. They relax and set their foot on the floor, nodding.

They shove their pencil on the table. _I'm sorry,_ they sign. _I didn't mean to say anything bad._

"You didn't really," you assure them. "Might I ask what 'Undyne's Word' is?"

 _I don't know,_ Frisk admits, _but when she was angry at the food or Mario Kart, she'd yell..._ they take a deep breath and, in a fairly good imitation of the former Captain of the Royal Guard, yell "OH-MY WORD!"

Somehow, the innocuous words come out ear-burning.

 _I don't know what Undyne's Word is,_ Frisk signs sheepishly, _but the way she says it, I don't think it's a good word…_

"I sincerely doubt that," you chuckle, giving Frisk a nuzzle on top of their head. "Do not worry, you have not said anything wrong. Go finish your homework."

Frisk happily returns to their times tables while you hurry to make sure the sauce doesn't burn. You're grateful that Undyne is so skilled at watching her vocabulary, but perhaps you ought to speak to her about tone sometime soon…

{}

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 _This is Based On A True Story, specifically my recently late Grandma and a story that my cousin told about her at her funeral. Grandma, quite infamously, swore more than the whole crew of the aircraft carrier that Grandpa served on put together, and when my cousin (who's my oldest cousin) was born, my aunt said that she wasn't going to let Grandma see the baby unless she could control her language and stop smoking. Grandma did both, learning to say "my word!" when she wanted to swear, but the_ way _she said it was enough to turn the air blue, and when my cousin was four he stubbed his toe and yelled "oh,_ Grandma's Word!" _angrily. I knew it was a family thing to say "Grandma's Word!" instead of swearing, but this is the first time I heard the story of why. We all knew that whatever Grandma's Word was, it had to be a bad one :P_


End file.
